in this city that never sleeps (it's your heart that i want to keep)
by images-in-words
Summary: AU: Santana is attending NYADA and living with Rachel and Kurt. She's been trying too hard for too long to erase the memory of a certain blonde with a parade of other blondes, and now her latest bad decision is probably the worst one yet - but things start looking up when she meets a stunning brunette named Marley Rose.
1. Chapter 1

**in this city that never sleeps (it's your heart that i want to keep)**

 **chapter one**

She wakes up as she often does these days: feeling alone, even though there's a lithe, warm body next to her, breathing slowly and deeply, blonde hair spilled across the large, soft pillows piled haphazardly against the headboard. She's been trying too hard, for too long, to erase the memory of one particular blonde with a virtual parade of other blondes, ones who are Not Her, and now, as she becomes aware of where she is and how she got there, she's beginning to realize that this particular blonde was probably the worst choice she's made yet.

This one's her _teacher_ , for God's sake. What the hell was she _thinking_ , getting drunk and falling into bed with Cassandra July, a.k.a. "Crazy Cassie," the one-time scourge of Broadway, and current terror of Dance 101 at the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts? _That_ Cassandra July?

She bites her lip to stifle a groan and shifts away carefully, trying to put as much space between herself and the sleeping dance instructor as possible. Her eyes scan the dimly lit room as her brain kicks into gear, trying to formulate an escape plan that will enable her to get out of here without Ms. July ever noticing. Where the fuck are her clothes?

Ms. July stirs. She freezes, then relaxes when the movement stops, letting out the breath she'd been holding in a long, slow exhale. She's safe for the moment, but she really needs to vacate these premises before her luck deserts her.

Connecting the dots – shoes over here, panties over there, dress flung half-over a chair, half on the desk in front of it – she slides soundlessly out of the bed and pads across the plush, carpeted floor to retrieve the various articles she needs and dresses more quickly than she ever has before. She needs to use the bathroom, but figures she can wait until she gets to the diner down the block, where she'll try to sort out the wreckage of this latest bad decision over coffee and a bagel.

This won't be a walk of shame so much as a sprint, she thinks.

"Leaving so soon, Lopez?"

She curses herself silently for stiffening at the sound of the voice. She can practically _feel_ Ms. July smirking, hears the bed creak when the woman rises out of it, the subtle swish of the sheets as she wraps herself in them.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to leave someone's home without saying goodbye?"

She sighs, turns around, resigning herself to the cat-that-ate-the-fucking-canary smile on Cassandra July's smug, satisfied face.

"Um, yeah – I kinda have – you know, homework and stuff, so..." her voice trails off.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Lopez. You showed me _such_ a good time last night, I was hoping we could go another round now. I must say, you're not all that on the dance floor, but between the sheets? _Hot."_ Cassandra licks her lips. Her eyes are dark. _"_ You're...skilled beyond your years. Your high school girlfriend taught you very well, or you taught each other well. Whatever."

"I...had a good time too, um, Ms. July, but I -" _Christ, I have just_ got _to get out of here._

"You _what,_ Santana?" Cassandra's voice is so sharp it could cut glass. "You want a grade from me, is that it? Well, you've got to work just as hard in here as you do in my class to earn it." "So I suggest you stop looking around for your purse, step out of that insanely tight little dress, and get back to work. You'll have plenty of time to attend to other things later. Right now, though, you need to attend to _me."_

She lets Cassandra take her face in her hands and crash their lips together, rough and hard, and she feels a little ashamed at the fact that it kind of turns her on. Her body responds automatically to the touch of the woman's hands, her tongue, her teeth, her skin heating even as she wishes it wouldn't, and her brain shuts off – but not before she wonders, absently, what Brittany would think of her if she knew what she was doing at this moment.

When Cassandra finally deigns to allow Santana to leave the apartment, she notices that Rachel texted her a few minutes earlier to ask if she would like to meet for lunch. That's one of the things she likes about living with the little hobbit: she never asks questions about where she goes at night, and with whom. She considers declining the invitation, because she really _does_ have homework to do - but on the other hand, she hasn't eaten since last night's dinner, and after the morning's... _activities..._ she's starving.

She texts her affirmative reply, and they quickly agree to meet at a place that's halfway between where she is now and the apartment she shares with Rachel and Kurt. She still can't quite believe that she's living and going to school with two of her former high school classmates. If someone had told her four years ago that she would be in this city now, with these people, and actually _enjoying_ it, she would have laughed and thrown a giant-sized frozen drink in his or her face, then walked away without looking back.

Yet here she was, in the Big Apple, the city that never sleeps, and she'd found that it was a lot like her: loud and bold, brash and tough, always ready to take anybody's best shot. It's a place that loves winners, and if Santana Lopez was anything, she was a winner.

At William McKinley High School back home in Lima, Ohio, she'd won national championships with the Cheerios, the finest high school cheerleading squad in the country, and with the school's Glee Club, the New Directions - and if she was being honest, she would have to admit that she was more proud of the latter than the former – and then she'd gotten into the most selective performing arts college in the country, beating out hundreds of other applicants to claim one of only thirty available seats in their class. So yeah, _total_ winner.

Now she called a spacious loft in Brooklyn her home, splitting the rent three ways with her two best friends, fellow Glee Club members and McKinley alumni Rachel Berry and Kurt Hummel, and to the surprise of the rest of the New Directions, with whom they remained profoundly close, had not yet committed double homicide.

They regarded their former classmates' shock with amusement. After all, none of them could possibly know how deeply she had bonded with Rachel and Kurt in the aftermath of her breakup with Brittany.

As she walks briskly in the cooling air of the bright September afternoon, having decided not to spend money on cab fare, she fights to tamp down the surge of emotion that wells up inside her at the thought of Brittany. Before the Cheerios, before the Glee Club, before anything, there had been Brittany. Tall, blonde, blue eyed and beautiful, the most amazing natural dancer that anyone had ever seen, Brittany S. Pierce had been the owner of Santana's heart forever. Before the New Directions had taught her how to dream, Brittany had been her sole desire, the one person she loved more than anything else in the world.

She had risked everything for Brittany when she'd agreed to join the Glee Club simply because Brittany and her other best friend Quinn wanted to. They were the three best cheerleaders on the squad, the most popular girls in school, on top of the social pyramid, rulers of all they surveyed. By contrast, the Glee Club was a sorry bunch of misfits, oddballs and losers, bottom feeders who existed at the very lowest level of the McKinley social hierarchy. Why, she had argued, should they risk everything they had worked so hard to achieve just to sing and dance around with a bunch of outcasts?

Because at some point Brittany's happiness had become the most important thing in the world to her. If she wanted something, anything at all, Santana moved heaven and earth to give it to her. So, despite her misgivings and against her better judgment, she'd relented and agreed to give the New Directions a chance. After all, people had done far crazier things for love, she reasoned.

It turned out to be the best decision she'd ever made.

Through the Glee Club she discovered that the people she'd previously dismissed and derided as freaks and geeks were actually the most amazing human beings she could ever hope to know. She also discovered a love for performing that she never would have found without them. Before long, she'd been forced to admit that Glee was the best part of her day, and no one in the group had looked particularly intimidated when she'd glared at them and said that if anyone ever repeated that statement, she would deny it.

They were there for her when she'd struggled with her sexuality, with the realization that what she felt for Brittany was far more than close friendship, beyond mere physical attraction. They were there for her when she and Brittany came out as a couple, never judging or condemning, only ever giving them unconditional support and encouragement.

And for nearly three years, they were happy. Insanely, deliriously, wonderfully happy.

But in their senior year, when Britt had begun to withdraw and grow distant from her as talk of plans for college began to dominate the conversations among the members of the Glee Club, only Rachel and Kurt had noticed.

Only they had seen the way Brittany was growing closer and closer with Tina Cohen-Chang, a year younger than them, sharing the kind of secret looks and smiles and laughs during Glee meetings with the Asian girl that she had once shared only with Santana.

And only they were there when the news of Brittany's perhaps inevitable betrayal had sent shock waves through the group. Santana can't help but shiver at the memory of how Rachel had held her as she'd cried through the night, singing to her softly, drawing soothing circles on her back, running her fingers through her hair to calm her, how Kurt had taken her hand and told her that her life wasn't over, that there was so much more in store for her if she would only just believe in her own future.

In those moments, their friendship had become something deeper than anything they could name, and Santana knew beyond doubt that she would always be able to count on them no matter what.

It wasn't a surprise to her when Quinn and Rachel had been the next to announce that they too had become a couple. She was truly happy for her fellow cheerleader and the Glee Club's unquestioned leader and star performer, having seen the way they had spent the first two years of high school running hot and cold with each other, getting closer and drawing back, stealing looks and glances when they thought no one else was watching. Now Quinn was at Yale, after having survived more than her own share of high school drama, and she and Rachel were making their relationship work even with the two-hour train ride required for them to see each other on weekends.

In a way, Santana reflected, the breakup had actually turned out to be sort of a good thing, despite the nearly unbearable emotional pain she'd suffered. For so long, dreams had seemed to be something for other people. She'd lived with expectations, but never dreams. Brittany had really been her only dream for most of high school, and then when she'd discovered another dream – the dream of coming here and going to NYADA with Rachel and Kurt – the girl had broken her heart. Maybe Brittany, with her often childlike reasoning, just hadn't been able to see any other way to set Santana free, to let her go without anything holding her back.

That didn't excuse her, of course - or Tina, who was certainly smart enough to know better.

She got it, though. Brittany wasn't passing any of her classes, wasn't going to graduate with most of her friends in the Glee Club – not with her and Quinn and Rachel and Kurt. Not with Mike, the tall, handsome Asian boy who was the only person she'd ever seen who could dance nearly as well as Brittany; not with Mercedes, the sassy, brassy diva whose powerful voice was nearly the equal of Rachel's; not with Finn and Puck, best friends and football stars who had been forever changed by the Glee Club too. So she latched on to the younger New Directions: wheelchair-bound Artie, hair gel addict Blaine, Irish leprechaun Rory, rich girl Sugar, country bumpkin Sam. And Tina, the smart, shy girl who was almost as good a singer as Rachel and Mercedes, but lacked their confidence and willingness to fight for the solos they felt they deserved.

It was only because of Rachel's fierce determination to not let the breakup with Brittany cause problems with the rest of the club – she didn't want anyone to feel as though they had to choose sides - that Santana had somehow managed to keep up a tenuous, fragile friendship with both Britt and Tina via the occasional text and e-mail. Talking to either of them would be far more than she could handle, still.

Damn them. Damn them both. And damn the weakness for blondes that had led her to flirting over dinner and drinks, and then into bed, with Cassandra July.

She wipes her eyes free of the tears that she refuses to let fall as she approaches the little cafe where she's to meet Rachel. Through her blurry vision, she sees her standing outside, wearing a white sweater, a long black skirt and a red beret, her dark hair flowing down past her shoulders. The girl smiles brightly, and Santana's heart warms.

But as she gets closer, she realizes that while they look somewhat similar from a distance, the smiling girl isn't Rachel. She's taller, for one thing, and lacks Rachel's distinctly 'ethnic' nose. And while Rachel is certainly attractive, this girl is, well...gorgeous. Like, insanely pretty.

Something inside Santana stirs. Her heartbeat quickens even as she chides herself for reacting this way to nothing more than a pretty face, a cute button nose, a pair of beautiful ice-blue eyes and a dazzling smile.

She gets to the door. The girl speaks. Her voice is soft and lilting, a little shy.

"Santana, right?"

"Um, who wants to know?" she replies, taken aback by the girl's forthrightness.

The girl laughs a small, self-deprecating laugh, looks bashfully down at her black shoes. "Rachel sent me outside to wait for you. She had to use the bathroom when we got out here, and she didn't want you to come in, not see you, then get mad and leave. So she told me to come out here and watch for you. I have to say, her description was dead on. 'Striking Latina' were the words, I think."

Santana's eyes widen. Once again, she's glad that her caramel-colored skin makes it nearly impossible for people to tell when she's blushing.

"That sounds like something Rachel would say. Yep, that's me. Santana Lopez, striking Latina at your service. And you are...?"

The girl extends her hand for Santana to shake. Absently, Santana notices she's wearing purple fingerless gloves, and her nails are unpainted. She looks up at the girl's face and is struck by the fact that she's wearing virtually no makeup, yet she's still absolutely stunning.

Santana grasps the girl's hand, and she laughs again and says, "Oh, right. Of course. I guess Rachel didn't tell you I was coming along. My name is Marley. Marley Rose."

Their hands remain connected as Santana opens the door for them to enter the cafe.

"Pleased to meet you, Marley Rose," she says, and means it. "Well, then - why don't we go inside and get better acquainted?" She bows at the waist with a flourish, drawing a melodious giggle. She finds the sound to be extraordinarily pleasant. She wants to hear it again.

Marley walks through the door, then turns and beams at her, and Santana is sure she hasn't seen anything this lovely in a long, long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**in this city that never sleeps (it's your heart that i want to keep)**

 **chapter two**

Santana hasn't looked this light, to Rachel's eyes, since the last time she was with Brittany, back when things had still been good between them, before everything had started to go so wrong. She's laughing and smiling and playfully bantering with Marley as though they've known each other for years and not just a few minutes. Rachel is uncharacteristically quiet as she watches the two of them in the careful, studied manner with which she's always observed the people she cares about.

Rachel had known there was something special about Marley from the moment they'd met as participants in NYADA's new mentoring program; she, of course, was only too eager to take a freshman student under her wing, wanting to show her the ins and outs of the school, all of its secret places and rituals, the way no one had done for her when she'd started here last year. She'd seen the willowy brunette with the wide blue eyes and shy smile and instantly felt a kinship with the girl. It was like looking at another version of herself, one with all the talent and all the big dreams, but not nearly as much of the confidence, the unshakable certainty that destiny would inevitably land her at the very top of the show business mountain.

Her sense of who was 'fluid' in terms of their sexuality had become highly developed in her time at the school as well. She could see clearly that Marley knew who she was on that score, but lacked experience. Instantly, she thought that Santana could be helpful not only with the girl's confidence as a performer – because really, who had more confidence, besides herself, than Santana? And who was better suited to give her the experience she needed in other areas as well? After all, she reasoned, her best friend had gone quite long enough without female companionship since it all went down with Brittany, and there was no better way to get over that painful event than with someone as obviously sweet and gentle as Marley.

Rachel's certainty that the beautiful freshman girl was exactly what Santana needed, and vice versa, only solidified as she'd gotten to know Marley. They'd walked and talked the entire length and breadth of NYADA's beautiful urban campus, and the girl had spoken with complete honesty about her life back home in Indiana, about what it had taken her to get here, and what she hoped to accomplish in this city of hopes and dreams. The story that Marley told had struck a deep chord within her, and Rachel had found herself wiping away tears more than a few times. She leans back in her chair, still watching her two friends chatting animatedly, and remembers.

* * *

" _My dad left us when I was really little. Apparently he was the kind of guy who only liked a woman when she looked a certain way, and the more trouble my mom had losing the weight she'd gained when she was pregnant with me, the less he liked her. That made my mom feel guilty and depressed, and when she felt that way, she would eat more even while she was trying to tell herself to eat less, which meant she just gained even more weight. It was kind of a vicious, endless cycle, you know what I mean?" Marley paused, hugging herself as if to ward off the memory, as though it were about to take hold of her and snatch her from where they stood, at the fountain in the middle of campus. Her lovely lips turned down in a sad frown, and she expelled a harsh puff of air before she started to speak again._

" _So she gained more and more weight and got more and more depressed, my dad got more and more unhappy, and finally, he left her – left her with a baby, an apartment and no job to pay the rent, or for anything else. Mom, of course, tells me the weight was just an excuse...that he really left because he couldn't handle the responsibility of being a father, being a faithful partner, being everything a man is supposed to be. They were young and stupid, she always says, trying to live like adults when they were really kids who should have been in college, not playing house. That's why she always encouraged me to dream big, and not let anyone or anything stop me from reaching my goals." Now she smiled, warmth radiating from her cheeks, all sadness flown away. "Especially not a_ guy. _You can imagine how happy she was when I told her I was into girls."_

 _Rachel laughed. Her fathers had been much the same way, always believing in her, always telling her to go for what she wanted, no matter how big or outlandish or unreachable her goal seemed to be for the small-minded populace of Lima, Ohio – and they'd reacted with similarly unexpected happiness when she had come out to them as well._

" _My grandparents, bless 'em, really saved the day after that. We moved in with them and stayed in their house until my mom graduated from cooking school – for which they paid – and a few years later, she was able to open a small restaurant. After that became successful, she bought a little house for me and her. She never managed to lose the weight, though, and when she would come around to pick me up from school...well, you know how kids are. They would make fun of her and say mean things about her, and it was really hard for me to deal with it. Mom took it all in stride, or at least she tried to make me think so - but I know it hurt her, because it really hurt me too. Especially when I would hear her crying after I'd gone to bed, and she thought I wouldn't hear her."_

 _This, too, was something to which Rachel found she could relate. Being the daughter of two gay men in Lima was not easy, and she had heard enough slurs and insults directed at her fathers while she was growing up to last a lifetime. She would often sit up at the top of the stairs that led to her bedroom and hear them talking about the latest indignity one or both of them had suffered that week, or that day – but not nearly as often as they would talk about how proud they were of their daughter, who was so strong and so determined not to ever let anyone or anything get her down, because that was what would ultimately get her out of this conservative cow town for good one day._

 _When Rachel asked about her relationship history, Marley blushed and smiled an endearingly awkward smile, shaking her head. "You don't really want to hear about that, do you?"_

" _Of course I do, Marley. Asking and answering questions is how friends get to know each other, building a foundation for a lifetime of shared knowledge and experience. Now, spill," Rachel said, as though she were teasing a younger sister, complete with a playful shove to the younger girl's shoulder._

" _Well, okay, but there's not that much to tell," Marley sighed. "I had a girlfriend in high school. We were each other's first, and for a while, we were happy. She was a cheerleader, blonde, pretty, the stereotypical All-American girl. Poster child for middle America."_

 _Her beautiful ice-blue eyes cloud over with what are clearly bittersweet memories, and Rachel is struck by the way she seems to be incapable of hiding her feelings. The girl is an open book._

" _Her name was Kitty, believe it or not. Well, Katherine, really, but no one ever called her that, not even her mother and father. Her parents were conservative, rich white-collar business people, the kind of people to whom appearances and connections are everything, and religious, too, in that judgmental, unforgiving way that some people in small towns can be. I could tell they didn't think I was good enough to be friends with their perfect daughter – and I could also tell that Kitty wasn't out to them. She was terrified of telling them that we were more than just friends, because she was convinced they would throw her out of the house if they knew. There was no telling her otherwise, so after a while, I stopped trying. I was her deepest, darkest secret, and at first, I guess that made me feel special, in a weird kind of way."_

 _Again, Rachel felt as though she was looking into a mirror from some kind of alternate dimension as she listened to Marley's tale. She couldn't help but think of how Quinn had struggled so mightily with the weight of her wealthy parents' expectations, their unrelenting emphasis on her appearance as the perfect Christian daughter, the embodiment of all that was good and right in the heartland. It had nearly broken her – especially the night her father had thrown her out of the house, giving her only thirty minutes to pack as much as she could into one suitcase and a duffel bag, after she'd finally confessed to her gravest sin: that she was in love with the Jewish daughter of those two "fag sinners," and therefore no longer fit to live in the Fabray household. Tears sprang to Rachel's eyes as she remembered how devastated Quinn had been that night, showing up out at the Berry home out of nowhere, trembling and hollow-eyed, a barely breathing shell of a human being. It had taken a lot of love, time and care to bring Quinn back to life, and to this day Rachel, who was the most forgiving person on the planet, had still not forgiven Russell Fabray for what he had done to his daughter._

" _Kitty was...intense, to say the least. Passionate, perfectionistic, relentless in her drive to be the head bitch in charge of our school. She wanted to be untouchable, I guess because she was anything but that at home. Her parents were so domineering, and she was so meek and submissive around them, it was such a weird thing to contrast that with the way she was at school. And yet, somehow, when she was so cold and cutting to everyone else, so quick to snap out an insult at anyone and everyone, somehow she was always gentle and loving with me. She once told me that I was her only safe place, the only refuge she had from all the pressure she felt – from her parents, from her coach, her teachers, her other friends - all the time. The only time she felt she could be who she truly was, and not who everyone else wanted her be, was when we were alone together. We would walk around town or go to the park or just hang out in my room, talking and kissing, and those were the only times I ever saw her relax and let her guard down. The first time we had sex was also the first time I saw her cry, after. It was like she had never allowed herself to feel something deeply other than fear or anger until that moment."_

 _Marley's face was pale, her voice soft, laced with sadness and something like regret. It was clear that she had loved Kitty deeply, and been deeply hurt by her, and this made Rachel's heart ache in her chest. Quinn had cried too, after she and Rachel had been intimate for the first time, but hers had been tears of happiness at finally being free of all that had held her back before._

" _Things started to change when I started thinking about college. About leaving home. She got a full cheerleading scholarship to Indiana State, and with my grades, she figured I could get a scholarship and go there too, and then we'd finally be able to be together the way we wanted to be all along. But I...I had a different dream. I wanted to come here, to NYADA. My mom had always told me not to be afraid to dream big, and there was no dream bigger than coming to New York and going to the best performance art school in the country."_

 _A single tear tracked down Marley's face as she recalled those painful days when everything fell apart._

" _She just couldn't understand why I would want to leave her behind after we'd waited three years to be together, really together, completely out and free. It was like her greatest fear was being realized: that she wasn't good enough. She yelled, she cried, she threatened, she begged and pleaded, and even though it broke my heart, I couldn't give in...I couldn't give her what she wanted so badly. Yes, we'd waited a long time to be together, but I'd waited even longer than that to get out of Indiana." Marley closed her eyes, seeming not to notice the tears that continued to spill from them. "And then...then she got angry. And when Kitty got angry – I mean,_ really _angry – it was not pretty. My mom had never laid a hand on me in her life, you know. Then, suddenly, no warning at all – wham. I had Kitty's handprint on my cheek for two days after the first time it happened. She was scared, she didn't want to lose me, she didn't want to be alone at a big school after being the biggest fish in our small pond back home – I got all that, and I told her so, repeatedly, but...she would just...like, go blank and tune me out. She wouldn't hear me at all. It was scary. I'd never seen anyone so...so consumed with anger before. By the end of things, I had changed my cell phone number and my mom had new locks installed on our doors and windows. We left for school without even saying goodbye to each other."_

 _Rachel had wrapped her arm around Marley's shoulders then, holding the girl as she cried out her pain and sadness over the loss of her first love._

" _Oh, Marley. I'm so, so sorry you had to go through that," Rachel said into Marley's ear as she ran her fingers through the girl's hair in slow, soothing strokes. "But as a very wise young woman I know once said - you can't change your past, but you can let go of it and start your future. And here it is. That's the good news. The future is here, and it's just starting, and there is so much waiting for you. You're a sweet, smart, incredibly talented young woman with so much to offer the world. Do you hear me, Marley Rose? You are going to do amazing things with your life, so many amazing things, and that awful Kitty girl is going to be nothing but a memory before long."_

 _A watery laugh escaped Marley then. "You sound like my mom," she chuckled weakly. "I think she'd like you a lot. Not only that, she'd trust you. She never trusted Kitty, not completely."_

 _Rachel released the younger girl from her embrace and smiled as she offered her a tissue from her pocket, which was gratefully accepted with a soft "thank you."_

" _You know, I have a friend you should meet. I think you can help each other in a lot of ways."_

" _Are you trying to set me up, Rachel?" Marley laughed as she dabbed at her eyes with the tissue._

" _Well, what if I am? She's a great person, and so are you. Besides, even if you're just friends, you need as many friends as you can get in this place, believe me. You thought high school was competitive? That was nothing. This is where it gets real. And when it gets real, you need people who'll have your back no matter what. I can't think of anyone who fits that description better than my friend Santana. She's fiercely loyal and incredibly protective of the people she cares about. Trust me, you couldn't possibly meet a better person here than Santana."_

" _I...I'll think about it, Rachel. I just need some time to myself, to get used to everything here before I start trying to make new friends. Is...is that okay?"_

 _There's a plea in Marley's eyes that Rachel can't deny, and sighing, Rachel nods._

" _Of course it's okay." She rises from where they've been sitting, on the outer edge of the fountain, with the still-warm September sun flooding the courtyard with light. Smiling her best gentle smile, she holds out her hands for Marley to take, and pulls the other girl to her feet when she does._

" _Come on, Miss Rose. Let's get some ice cream, then go back to your room and run some scales. How does that sound?"_

 _Marley grinned. Her eyes were still a little red, but there was no sadness left in them._

" _Sounds like a plan, Ms. Berry. Lead the way."_

* * *

It had taken more time than Rachel had expected it would, a little more coaxing and cajoling, but now they were here, in this little lunch spot, and seeing her best friend and her newest friend hitting it off like they were meant to know each other, makes her feel almost as good as she imagines she would after winning a Tony.

She can't wait to talk to Quinn and tell her all about it when she gets home later.


	3. Chapter 3

**in this city that never sleeps (it's your heart that i want to keep)**

 **chapter three**

Santana can't stop thinking about Marley. It's surprising to her, really, after spending so much time not being able to stop thinking about Brittany; it's as though a switch has been thrown, or a button's been pushed, and the portion of her brain in which all things Brittany had been stored has been shut off. A new part of her brain - the thoughts-about-Marley part - has been activated, and it's been in overdrive since the moment it went online.

She can't help but smile as she thinks – _again –_ about how amazing Marley is. The girl's so down to earth, so easy to talk to, so unassuming and self-effacing, that it takes no effort at all for Santana to slide right into conversation with her, about anything and everything. She doesn't even mind the fact that she's been getting less sleep since they've been talking on the phone into the late hours nearly every night. And Marley is smart, too; smart, and well read, passionate and filled with an eagerness to learn about and explore the world around her. By contrast, Brittany was a small town girl with a small town view of the world, limited basically to her little corner and not terribly concerned with whatever might be going on outside of it.

Of course, as appealing as Marley's mind is to Santana, there's also the undeniable fact that she's absolutely _gorgeous_ , as close to a perfect vision of heartland America beauty as Santana has ever seen. That long, beautiful dark hair, those bright, clear eyes, that smooth, supple skin, that amazing smile – it lights up her whole face, and then the entire room! - and that slim, yet strong and sexy body. Santana sighs, feels her inner thighs tense up at the thought of touching Marley, having Marley touch her. She wants desperately to merge Marley's lips with her own, to take the girl's beautiful, pouty lower lip and suck on it, before letting their tongues dance together, as she runs her fingers through her hair and down her long, pale neck...

 _No,_ she reminds herself. She let things get physical too fast with Brittany, then let herself get in too deep emotionally, before she really _knew_ her. It's possible, she realizes, that she had let her physical attraction to Brittany blind her to the realities of who her former fellow cheerleader actually was, that her judgment had been skewed simply because she'd _wanted_ her so badly. Things are going to be different with Marley. She's not going to push things the way she had with Brittany. She's going to let things develop in their own time, determined to allow them to unfold naturally, as they should.

It occurs to her that she feels _different_ with Marley, somehow, lighter, freer than she can remember ever being before. Part of that, she's sure, is that she knows who she is a lot better now than she did when she was with Brittany. The trauma of realizing her sexuality, then trying to accept and come to terms with it, all the fear and uncertainty surrounding coming out to her family, her friends and the school – it's all behind her now, and she's able to just be who she is and live her life on her own terms, and that's the most amazing feeling ever. She just wants Marley to feel the same way, but from what she's heard both from Marley and from Rachel, it's not necessarily going to be easy to get the girl to that point.

Her blood simmers when she thinks about the hurt that Marley's ex inflicted upon her. How could anyone ever lay a hand on such a kind, sweet, gentle person? It was unthinkable, unconscionable and unforgivable. She swears to herself that if this Kitty girl ever finds the nerve to come here – hell, if she ever even sends her a letter, or a text, or tries to call her – she won't hesitate to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on her sorry ass, without a second thought.

She tosses and turns in her bed, restless with barely contained energy. It's early yet, way earlier than she would usually be awake on a Saturday morning, but she's going to see Marley today, and that knowledge has her so excited that she actually starts to laugh at herself. She realizes it's been way too long since she was really, truly, genuinely _happy,_ and she needs to thank Rachel – _again –_ for introducing her to Marley, although she doesn't know if it's even possible to adequately express just how grateful she is. The truth is, time and time again, Rachel has come through for her, shown her what true friendship is all about, and she doesn't even want to think about where she might be, or what her life might be like, without Rachel's calm, steady presence and unwavering support.

Looking at the cell phone on her nightstand, Santana narrows her eyes, willing it to ring or give forth a text notification sound. She needs to know that Marley is out there and thinking about her just as much as she's thinking about Marley. When the phone does in fact ring, she jumps, sitting upright in surprise. The screen shows Marley's name, and she's positively giddy.

When did she become this person? How did this happen?

"Hi, Santana," her soft voice lilts from the air into her ear, intoxicating in its warmth and richness.

"Hey," she replies. "How are you? Roommate's not giving you any trouble, is she? If she is, I'm gonna come over there and -"

"No, no, Santana, no trouble at all," Marley laughs. The sound sends a little chill down Santana's spine. "Relax. I just...I just wanted to confirm our plans for today. Nothing's changed, right?"

"Definitely not. I've been looking forward to this all week. You, me, a dark movie theater, seats way in the back..." she purrs, hoping that Marley is as affected by the thought as she is.

"Mmm, that definitely sounds good. I'm buying the popcorn."

Santana frowns. No way. "Uh-uh. _No me gusta._ I am taking you out on this date, which means that everything is on me. The movie, the popcorn, the dinner – _everything._ "

"But -" Marley begins to protest, but Santana cuts her off.

"No buts, Miss Rose. Well, except for your amazingly cute one. This is me sweeping you off your feet, the way you deserve to be swept. Prepare to have the time of your life, on my dime."

She can practically hear the other girl blushing as she acquiesces with a sigh and a drawn-out " _Aww,_ San..." and it's so freaking endearing that she just about swoons.

"So get ready, Miss I-Have-a-Date. Take a shower, do your hair, make yourself all pretty, and I'll see you in, say, two hours or so?"

"It won't take me _that_ long. Come by in about an hour and a half or so. My roommate's already gone, so you don't have to worry about her."

"All right, that sounds good. Do you want to say hello to Rachel while I have you on the phone? I think she's still here." Santana cracks her bedroom door open, peers into the living room. Sure enough, Rachel's out there, earbuds in, iPod on, in a sports bra and bicycle shorts, blazing through her morning workout on the weight machine that replaced her beloved elliptical. "Ah, she's working out. She'll stop to say hi, though, if you want."

"No, don't interrupt her. I know how committed she is to her routine. If I make her deviate from it even a little bit, she'll feel off all day, and I don't want to do that to her. Just tell her I said hi and that we'll talk or text soon. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm glad you guys are such good friends, you know. There's nothing worse than a roommate who doesn't like her roommate's girlfriend."

Marley laughs, the sound low and melodious, enrapturing to Santana's ear. "Says the girl who threatens my roommate every time we speak."

"I can't help it!" Santana protests. "My psychic Mexican third eye tells me there's something off about her. And it's never wrong."

"You've never met her, Santana."

"Don't have to. _Psychic,_ remember?"

"Right. So, let me go. Apparently I have a hot date for which I must prepare."

"Yes. Yes, you do. Well, hop to it, then. Don't let me keep you."

"Then say goodbye already," Marley laughs again.

"I know, I should. But I don't want to. I waited all morning to hear your voice, and now I don't want to stop hearing it."

"That's sweet, San. And a little goofy. So I'm going now."

"No! You can't! Please, don't leave me!" Santana whines piteously in an effort to get Marley to lose it completely.

Marley cracks up. Santana fist pumps at finally making her lose control. "You're crazy, you know that? Good thing I like that about you," she says finally, after regaining her composure.

"You'd better. It's one of my best features, after all. Now go, scoot. Time is a-wasting, don't you know?"

"Yes, I do. Bye, San."

"Goodbye. See you soon!"

The call ends, and Santana feels exhilarated and yet a little sad now that the conversation is finally over. She puts her phone aside and figures she's got time for a little breakfast before she gets ready to go out. She gets up, stretches, pulls on a pair of sleep shorts over the panties she wore to bed, deciding to remain in her tank top rather than change into a T-shirt.

Rachel is just finishing up her workout, removing the buds from her ears and putting her iPod to sleep, when Santana emerges from her bedroom to pad into the kitchen. She smiles at the diminutive singer, who beams back at her. Life is pretty good for both of them these days, and each is very aware of how different things could have been for them if they had chosen different paths.

"Good morning, Santana," Rachel chirps as she dabs the sweat from her forehead with a towel. "You look quite chipper this morning. I take it you have confirmed your plans to rendezvous with the lovely Miss Marley Rose this afternoon?"

Santana grabs the regular milk out of the refrigerator, then opens a cupboard over the sink to get a box of cereal. She takes note of the date on the milk carton, frowns; looks like they'll have to do some grocery shopping tomorrow.

"Good morning to you too, tiny," she replies as she sets the milk and cereal down on the kitchen table, then turns her attention to finding a clean bowl and spoon. "To answer your question, yes, my plans with Marley are confirmed. And now a question for you, regarding your morning workout: do you think that you might actually be getting _shorter_ as you put on muscle? I swear, the tighter your little body gets, the shorter you become. Soon you're just going to be a set of legs and a smile."

Rachel rolls her eyes, knowing there was no real malice behind her roommate's jibe. "Very funny. Actually, I am quite pleased with the way my body has been changing since I added some resistance training to my workout regimen. And so is Quinn, for that matter," she says with a smirk.

Santana screws up her face in an expression of mock disgust. "Ugh, don't remind me. I can still hear her breathy alto wails from her last visit here."

"Well, I don't doubt you'd rather hear what Marley sounds like," Rachel teases back as she enters the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She sits down next to Santana and removes the cap from the bottle, drinking deeply as she takes note of the slight darkening of her roommate's eyes.

"True," Santana admits as she digs in to her bowl of cereal. "But I said I'm not going to push her into anything, and I won't. I have too much respect for her for that."

Rachel gazes at her with soft eyes, hearing the honest sincerity in her words. "I know. And I think it's extremely commendable of you. It seems you've learned a lot from what you went through with Brittany."

"Yeah, I know I made mistakes with Britt. More than I'd care to admit, to tell you the truth," Santana replies soberly between spoonfuls of cereal. "But as your blonde Yalie girlfriend once said, you can't change the past, but you can let it go and start your future. And that's what I'm trying to do. Hopefully Marley will be willing to come along for the ride."

Rachel smiles, puts the cap back on the water bottle. "I think she will. She really likes you, San. She feels safe with you, and that's really important, after what she went through with her ex."

"Who I swear I'm gonna strangle, if I ever meet her," Santana growls, feeling the surge of protectiveness toward Marley that always rushes through her at the mention of the near-mythical Kitty Wilde.

"While I can never condone violence, I can certainly understand the impulse toward it in certain situations," Rachel muses. "But I still don't want to accompany Marley on any prison visits, Santana, so let's just agree that you're speaking rhetorically."

"Yeah. Rhetorically." Santana sticks out her tongue at Rachel, who merely grins back at her. She gets up from the table, puts the milk back in the fridge and returns the box of cereal to the cupboard. "Hey, listen, are you going to shower now or can I jump in there? I know you just worked out and all, but _your_ girlfriend is in New Haven, and mine is waiting for me just across campus, so..."

"Yes, I know. Unfortunately. Go ahead," Rachel says, waving her hand dismissively. "I don't have any major plans for the day, other than to go through a ton of sheet music, as I still haven't picked out a song for the next Showcase competition. Which is not nearly as exciting or interesting as a hot date."

"You'll be Skyping with Quinn later though, won't you?"

Rachel brightens. "Yes, there is that. But later. She has a lot of homework to do, and I don't want to distract her from it. You know how much she wants to be at the top of her class."

"Among other things."

"All right, you go now. Into the shower with you, before I call Marley and tell her how you indecently parade around this apartment on a daily basis."

"Hey! I remembered to put some shorts on today. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

"Well, just a little. Which is what those things are. Don't you own any sweat pants?"

"What's the matter, tiny? My ass get you all hot and bothered?"

"Hot, no. Bothered, yes. Now go get in the shower. The lovely Miss Marley awaits, after all. Tick tock, tick tock..." Rachel points at her watch with a sweet smile.

"Oh, crap. You're right."

Rachel laughs as her roommate scampers off into the shower, shaking her head at the clothes peeled off and left in the hallway outside the bathroom door.


End file.
